366 Days. (RP #1)
Aug 29, 2022 19:01:45 GMT -5
edwarddubin0604 and "The High Roller" Wesley Crane like this
Post by Oblivion Death Squad on Aug 29, 2022 19:01:45 GMT -5
Flames billow into the night air, sparks swirling in the breeze as in the distance unseen waves crash against the rocky shores. And the wind snaps across the flames, making them leap higher as the camera in grim black and white settles on three figures standing in the darkness. Two of them wear grim black skull masks and tactical vests, they glare at the fire with their arms folded across their broad chests. And then a slender figure stepped forward, long coat snapping around her as she reaches up to shove back her hood. Hair swirled across her face, and her eyes gleamed with the light of the flames.
'You know who we are, you know what we represent, you know who we serve. And the darkness of Donzig-gun, the Empire of the Scourge reaches from Britain to Japan to beyond! And yet, yet there is a thorn in our side! There is one thing that defies the will of the Children of the Fall! There is one thing that has yet to fall to the hands of the Wonder and Terror of this Age! And that is the W:UK Tag Team Championships! For three hundred and forty seven days you have held those titles! For three hundred and forty seven days you have defeated every challenger that came against you! The Marsupials of Madness?'
Mormo gave a growl at that name.
'The Revenants? Prime Time? You even pinned Steve Overrated to earn a win against the Empire!'
Moloch snarled from behind his mask, shaking his head.
'But at 366 days, one day over a year? Your time has run out, because finally after all this time? You will come face to face with the Soldiers of Oblivion, you will come face to face with the Scourge's Chosen! And as you are choked, as you are beaten, as you battered into submission before the eyes of all those rabble that adore you! You will see that the future belongs to us! That it belongs to Donzig-gun! That there are no tomorrows, only a world of ash!'
The flames snapped higher, dancing wildly in the wind as smoke and cinders leapt into the air. And The Baroness looked between the two hulking forms, and her hand lifted to brush back her hair with a sneer.
'Frank Windsor. Rob Riot. At Halifax, the reign of the Bastards will finally go down in flames! And the two of you rabble, of you gutter trash, will bow down before the throne of the Scourge! And you will beg us for mercy, but we have none! And we will take your precious championships, and then we will scrape up what remains of your boy Fowler! And we will be free of the Bastards once and for always! Because these are not the soft green shores of Britain, these are not the soft sunlit fields that you are so used to! This is the North! This is our land, a cold hard place of rock and the roar of the waves! And here you will suffer before the people of Halifax, and they will remember that we run the North! Us!'
'Rob! Frank! Ne jemi fundi juaj! Ne jemi zili i vdekjes së mbretërimit tuaj!' snarls Mormo, his huge fist slamming into his palm. He stares at the flames, and then Moloch slapped his hands on his huge shoulders before he stepped closer.
'Shakaja juaj e një mbretërimi ka mbaruar! Lojërat tuaja të vogla kanë përfunduar! Fëmijët do të marrin atë që është e jona! Ajo që ka qenë gjithmonë e jona! Ne do të jemi kampionë W:UK!' roared Moloch, his hands making a strangling motion before he flexed his arms as though snapping something. Sinclair lifted a hand, and the pair drew back as she paced between them.
'They say they are the death knell, the end of your reign! That your championships belong to the Children! Your games? They are over. Your jokes? Over. Your reign? Over.'
Sinclair smiled, shaking her head as she stared into the flames.
'No doubt, even now as your reign approaches it's end. Even as you face your doom, you are sitting somewhere getting ready to make your little quips, your little jokes. But you see we are nothing you have faced before! We are not the proud and foolish Revenants, we are not the drunk on our importance Prime Time, and we are not hindered by some Bang Bros. hanger on, the Remora Steve Awesome! You do not face the Dark Stars now! We are not Team Fairtex! We are the Oblivion Death Squad. We are the hungry heart of the Void, the Abyss commands us, it tells us that you are nothing but prey.'
Moloch slammed a fist to his chest, pounding out a slow steady rhythm as he nodded to himself. Mormo growled from his mask, rolling thos huge shoulders before he lifted his fists as the flames cracked in the wind. The ocean roared in the distance, and Sinclair stared out into the darkness with a shrug.
'No doubt you think you will deny us, no doubt you think we will be easy! But no, that is not us. And don't think we want anything less then your best, Bastards! We want you at one hundred percent! We want the Bastards who have walked as the best tag team in this company, in this network, in this industry! We want the Champions! When we defeat you, I want the world to know that we beat men! Not jobbers, not some workers, not some schmuck off the street who walked in here on a whim! We will leave that sort of garbage for our lessers for the Boys, for the Bang Brothers, for the Pillars! Because I don't need to insult you to know that you are as good as you say you are.'
Sinclair shrugged, her eyes gleaming as she smiled.
'We're better. See you soon.'
'You know who we are, you know what we represent, you know who we serve. And the darkness of Donzig-gun, the Empire of the Scourge reaches from Britain to Japan to beyond! And yet, yet there is a thorn in our side! There is one thing that defies the will of the Children of the Fall! There is one thing that has yet to fall to the hands of the Wonder and Terror of this Age! And that is the W:UK Tag Team Championships! For three hundred and forty seven days you have held those titles! For three hundred and forty seven days you have defeated every challenger that came against you! The Marsupials of Madness?'
Mormo gave a growl at that name.
'The Revenants? Prime Time? You even pinned Steve Overrated to earn a win against the Empire!'
Moloch snarled from behind his mask, shaking his head.
'But at 366 days, one day over a year? Your time has run out, because finally after all this time? You will come face to face with the Soldiers of Oblivion, you will come face to face with the Scourge's Chosen! And as you are choked, as you are beaten, as you battered into submission before the eyes of all those rabble that adore you! You will see that the future belongs to us! That it belongs to Donzig-gun! That there are no tomorrows, only a world of ash!'
The flames snapped higher, dancing wildly in the wind as smoke and cinders leapt into the air. And The Baroness looked between the two hulking forms, and her hand lifted to brush back her hair with a sneer.
'Frank Windsor. Rob Riot. At Halifax, the reign of the Bastards will finally go down in flames! And the two of you rabble, of you gutter trash, will bow down before the throne of the Scourge! And you will beg us for mercy, but we have none! And we will take your precious championships, and then we will scrape up what remains of your boy Fowler! And we will be free of the Bastards once and for always! Because these are not the soft green shores of Britain, these are not the soft sunlit fields that you are so used to! This is the North! This is our land, a cold hard place of rock and the roar of the waves! And here you will suffer before the people of Halifax, and they will remember that we run the North! Us!'
'Rob! Frank! Ne jemi fundi juaj! Ne jemi zili i vdekjes së mbretërimit tuaj!' snarls Mormo, his huge fist slamming into his palm. He stares at the flames, and then Moloch slapped his hands on his huge shoulders before he stepped closer.
'Shakaja juaj e një mbretërimi ka mbaruar! Lojërat tuaja të vogla kanë përfunduar! Fëmijët do të marrin atë që është e jona! Ajo që ka qenë gjithmonë e jona! Ne do të jemi kampionë W:UK!' roared Moloch, his hands making a strangling motion before he flexed his arms as though snapping something. Sinclair lifted a hand, and the pair drew back as she paced between them.
'They say they are the death knell, the end of your reign! That your championships belong to the Children! Your games? They are over. Your jokes? Over. Your reign? Over.'
Sinclair smiled, shaking her head as she stared into the flames.
'No doubt, even now as your reign approaches it's end. Even as you face your doom, you are sitting somewhere getting ready to make your little quips, your little jokes. But you see we are nothing you have faced before! We are not the proud and foolish Revenants, we are not the drunk on our importance Prime Time, and we are not hindered by some Bang Bros. hanger on, the Remora Steve Awesome! You do not face the Dark Stars now! We are not Team Fairtex! We are the Oblivion Death Squad. We are the hungry heart of the Void, the Abyss commands us, it tells us that you are nothing but prey.'
Moloch slammed a fist to his chest, pounding out a slow steady rhythm as he nodded to himself. Mormo growled from his mask, rolling thos huge shoulders before he lifted his fists as the flames cracked in the wind. The ocean roared in the distance, and Sinclair stared out into the darkness with a shrug.
'No doubt you think you will deny us, no doubt you think we will be easy! But no, that is not us. And don't think we want anything less then your best, Bastards! We want you at one hundred percent! We want the Bastards who have walked as the best tag team in this company, in this network, in this industry! We want the Champions! When we defeat you, I want the world to know that we beat men! Not jobbers, not some workers, not some schmuck off the street who walked in here on a whim! We will leave that sort of garbage for our lessers for the Boys, for the Bang Brothers, for the Pillars! Because I don't need to insult you to know that you are as good as you say you are.'
Sinclair shrugged, her eyes gleaming as she smiled.
'We're better. See you soon.'
